


A Touch of Fate

by Sweetie_T



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad guy gets ganked, Gen, Happily ever after and stuff, No Romance, Peripheral Destiel but not a focus, Soulmate AU, The snark is strong with OC, They're soulmates that just snuggle, casefic, platonic intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-09 05:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15260265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetie_T/pseuds/Sweetie_T
Summary: He cleared his throat nervously and the spell was broken, time returned to normal. No one but the two of them realized anything had happened.He leaned close to her ear, trying to be heard over the ruckus of the train. “I’m Sam.”“Great...” She shouted over the noise. The train slowed. “This is my stop. Bye.”





	A Touch of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T for canon-typical blood and violence, most of which happens in dreams.
> 
> Merged the two chapters into one. Cause I’m a spaz and a perfectionist. ❤️

The train was late. _Again_. Which meant Dakotah was going to get to work late. _Again_.

She growled under her breath as she elbowed her way onto the overcrowded car, grabbing the last free overhead strap just as someone else reached for it.

Their hands touched and time stopped for everyone but them. Literally. It’s what happened when you found your soulmate.

The clamor of the other passengers went instantly silent and everyone went still. Everyone but the impossibly tall older guy, fingers wrapped around her hand and the strap. He must have looked as stunned as she felt.

He cleared his throat nervously and the spell was broken, time returned to normal. No one but the two of them realized anything had happened.

He leaned close to her ear, trying to be heard over the ruckus of the train. “I’m Sam.”

“Great...” She shouted over the noise. The train slowed. “This is my stop. Bye.”

Dakotah hoisted on her messenger bag and shouldered her way off the car, not even looking back as the doors closed in Sam’s face, leaving him gazing helplessly in her direction as the train pulled away.

...

Her boss was not sympathetic to Dakotah’s late-train issue. It was her third strike and she was out.

She stormed out of work, bag on one shoulder, box full of random personal belongings under the opposite arm.

She turned to head toward the train station and then turned back, gaping. “You’ve gotta be frikking kidding me, man!”

Sitting outside her work, patiently waiting for her to come out, was Sam.

He walked up to her, hands in his pockets, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot.

“What are you, a stalker? Figures, with my luck. My soulmate is a stalker.” She started walking toward the station and he kept up with her shorter-legged gait effortlessly.

“I’m not a stalker. You were wearing your work hat on the train.” He gestured to where the cap, emblazoned with her former company logo was currently perched on her head. She tore it off and threw it in the next trash bin she crossed.

“What do you want?” She asked, grumpily.

“Well... for starters, why don’t I carry that box for you? And then... maybe I can buy you lunch?” He said, puppy dog eyes hopeful.

At the mention of lunch she stopped in her tracks. It took her only an instant of consideration  before shoving the box into his arms and heading off in a different direction. He dutifully followed.

...

They sat across from each other in her favorite burger joint. He picked at his salad, watching her inhale her bacon cheeseburger and chili fries. She eventually came up for air, licking her fingers clean.

“Welp...” She said when she was done. “Thanks for lunch. See ya’.” She stood to go and his hand wrapped around her wrist, his touch careful and light as a feather.

“Wait. Sit, please.” He said.

She rolled her eyes and sat, arms crossed on the table. “What?” His eyes softened as he looked into hers.

“Don’t you... doesn’t this mean anything to you? I mean... we’re soulmates.”

“So... what? We’re supposed to get married now or some crap?”

“Well... no. But don’t you want to at least get to know each other better?” Sam sighed. “I mean... I don’t know anything about you, not even your name.”

“I’m 22, recently unemployed and my name is Dakotah. Can I go now?”

His jaw clenched and unclenched. He didn’t look happy. “At least let me walk you home.”

“Gee. That sounds really awesome and all, leading a total stranger directly to my front door, but I don’t think so.” She stood again but paused before walking away. “Dude, look...” She sighed deeply. “Most people never find their soulmate and they fall in love and get married and have babies and mortgages and die of old age just fine. You’re better off without me, trust me. Forget we ever met, okay? Consider it a piece of friendly advice.” She patted his shoulder and hoisted her box. “See you around.”

And as suddenly as she had walked into his life... she walked right back out.

...

Dakotah bounced to the rhythm of classic rock while waiting for her best friend to get off work at the record store.

She liked hanging out here. The large noise-cancelling headphones blocked out the world and she could focus on the music while flipping through records. Hardly anyone ever bothered her. It was nice.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and she lifted one side of the headphones, glancing up at her bestie. “What’s up, Jules?”

Juli handed her a card. “There was this gigantic hot guy with hair, he came in for like two seconds and asked me to give you this.” Juli blurted in her typical rapid-fire babble.

Dakotah took the card without bothering to look at it, already fuming. This was her sanctuary, dammit. How did he even find her here?

“He just left. You could probably still catch him if you hurry.”

Before Juli had even finished her sentence Dakotah was running out the door, the little entrance bell jingling with all its might.

 

The pounding of her feet made Sam stop and turn around. He caught her as she slammed into him and she angrily wrenched herself out of his gentle grip.

She crumpled up the card and threw it at him, the tiny paper ball bouncing harmlessly off his shirt.

“What the actual hell, Sam?! You really are a stalker! I swear to god I will tase you, you creepy ass!” She took a breath, her volume lowering but her rage just as intense. “Was I not clear at the restaurant? I opt the hell out, dude. Leave me alone!”

She punctuated her final words with an ineffectual shove against his chest, failing to move him an inch.

“...You done?” He asked after a beat. His eyes sparked. His nostrils were slightly flared and his jaw tight. He was ticked.

She gulped and nodded, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

Sam bent and grabbed the crumpled card, smoothing it out carefully. “Let me guess. You didn’t even read the card.” He said.

He held it out to her and she took it sheepishly. The second her fingers closed around the paper he turned and walked away. She glanced down and read it.

The front was all scratched out with a pen, under the ink it said things like “FBI” and “Agent Smith”.

She turned it over and read-

‘Dakotah, If you ever need anything, [phone number]. See you around. -Sam’

...

That night she dreamed of Sam.

He was somewhere dark and he wasn’t alone.

And then the scent of blood... and the horrible gurgling sound that was almost worse than screams.

And finally... bone-chilling silence.

Dakotah woke in a cold sweat, trembling. She leaned over the side of the bed and emptied her stomach into the strategically placed trash bin.

And when she was done, she reached for his card.

...

“Hey, this is Dean.” Dean answered the incessantly ringing phone.

It was a number he didn’t recognize but it was coming into Sam’s private line, so it must be a friend.

The sound of a feminine throat clearing was all he heard followed by a full ten seconds of dead air before a weary voice spoke.

“I... Sorry, I was trying to call Sam. I must have the number wrong.”

Dean was quick to reassure her. “Sam ran for takeout and left his phone. You wanna leave a message?”

“I... uh... Are you a... friend of his?” She answered in a thin, shaky voice.

She sounded terrified. And she had Sam’s personal number. She had to be someone he knew.

“I’m his brother, Sweetheart. You can talk to me.”

“Okay, _Mister_ , first of all, my name is not _Sweetheart_.” He could hear her bristling over the phone. “And second of all...” She let out a shaky breath. “Sam is in trouble and he doesn’t know it.”

“What kind of trouble?” He asked, voice turning even more gravelly than usual with concern.

“I’m not really sure... all I know is he’s in danger. Look, can you just give him my number? It should be on his phone now that I called. Tell him to call Dakotah. And...” Her voice became small. “...and tell him I’m sorry.”

Dean heard a faint click of the line disconnecting and she was gone.

Ten minutes later Sam came back with the food.

“Do you know a chick named Dakotah?” Dean asked as he took the first bite of his burger.

...

The pounding on her door would have jolted her awake, had Dakotah been able to sleep a wink since her nightmare.

She looked through the peep hole and saw Sam standing with a guy she assumed was his brother.

She opened the door to them and shocked the hell out of Sam by immediately wrapping her arms around his torso and pressing her ear to his chest, almost like she needed audible proof his heart was still beating.

Sam wrapped her in a hug and shook off Dean’s questioning- almost accusing- stare.

“Hey... I don’t mind you cuddling me, but, maybe we could do it inside?” He asked.

She pulled away from him like she had been burned, scrubbing the too-long sleeves of her oversized flannel across her eyes, furious at herself for letting the tears fall.

“Yeah, of course. Come in.” She showed them to her tiny kitchen/living/dining/bed room. “I’m kind of surprised you got here so fast. Usually people don’t show at all. They just hang up.”

Dean sat on the squashy armchair as fast as he could, smirking a bit when Sam glared at him and was forced to fold his too-tall frame into one of the two rickety lawn chairs.

Dakotah took the remaining lawn chair and hugged herself tight around the stomach.

“So...” Sam leaned toward her and the half-rusted chair creaked dangerously. He sat upright again quickly as Dean tried not to snicker.

“Dakotah, this is my brother, Dean. Why don’t you tell us what’s going on? Why do you think I’m in trouble?”

Her face paled and she shook her head slowly, a sad smile half-gracing her lips. “You won’t believe me.”

“Try us.” Dean said, his tone slightly sharp. He was worried for his brother.

Dakotah sighed, rolled her eyes and prepared to be laughed at, like usual. “Do you know the story of Cassandra?”

She couldn’t bring herself to look directly at them. She looked at her twisting fingers in her lap instead.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, uh... Greek mythology. She could see the future accurately but she was cursed so no one ever believed her.”

Dean rolled his eyes and muttered “nerd”. Dakotah glanced up and bit her lip so she wouldn’t smile, but Dean noticed anyway and winked at her.

“So, Cassandra?” Sam interrupted their budding camaraderie with just a touch of irritation.

“Yeah...” Dakotah looked serious again, rubbing her damp palms nervously on her yoga pants. “What would you guys think if I told you that kind of stuff is real? Seeing the future. Prophecy.”

The brothers shared an intense but brief look before turning back to her.

“We would agree with you.” Sam said with a shrug.

She arched a skeptical brow and he explained. “It’s... kind of what we do. We hunt monsters. Ghosts. Demons. Dean’s soulmate is an angel. Literally. We know, better than most, weird stuff is real.”

“You hunt monsters...” she breathed, suddenly very still, face white as a sheet.

Before he knew he was moving Sam was on his knees in front of her, large hands warm on her own. Tears slipped down her cheeks again, this time she didn’t bother to hide them. Her wide, scared gaze met his gentle eyes and he felt a surge of protectiveness.

“It’s all my fault... I dream of bad things happening to people and it comes true. I’ve hurt people. Injured them. Tortured them... I’ve _killed_ people, Sam. _I’m_ a monster.”

He gathered her into his arms and let her sob against his shirt. He glanced at Dean over her head before whispering into her hair.

“Dakotah, I used to have dreams too. When I was just about your age I dreamed... of someone I loved dying... and then she did.” He swallowed the lump threatening to close his throat. “But it wasn’t my fault. My dreams didn’t kill her, a demon did. I’m not a monster... And, Baby, neither are you.”

...

Sam held Dakotah until she had no more tears to cry and had fallen fast asleep. He carried her to the lumpy bed in the corner of the tiny studio apartment and tucked her in. Dean, to his credit, waited until she was settled to start grilling his brother.

“You wanna tell me who the hell she is to you?” He asked when they were both in the kitchenette, Dean exploring the cupboards and fridge for any traces of food or beer.

Sam ran his hands through his hair. He couldn’t think of a way to answer tactfully, so he blurted it out with a shrug. “She’s my soulmate.”

Dean froze, a slightly mushy orange in his hand. “Run that by me again?”

“I was on the train, on my way back from questioning that professor about the vengeful spirit. I touched her hand and... it happened.” Sam said.

“You’re sure?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dean. I’m sure. It’s not every day time stops.”

“Okay, man... just checking.” Dean looked over at the sleeping girl. “She’s like 15, Sammy.”

Sam huffed indignantly. “She’s 22. And I have no plans of taking advantage of her. I just have this feeling, you know? Like I would do anything to take care of her. Anything to keep her safe.”

“Sam...” Dean said, his tone a warning.

“What?”

“You just met her. You can’t be bringing home strays.” Dean said, finally finding a jar with one shriveled pickle in it and helping himself.

Sam wrinkled his nose at his brother’s snack choice. “She’s not a stray, Dean. She’s special. And she needs us. I mean, look at this place. She’s got nothing. A second hand bed and a garage sale armchair. She’s got a rotten orange and... can pickles even go bad?” Dean frowned at him. “Plus, there’s the whole psychic thing. She could give us leads on cases.”

“Sure. If she’s legit.” Dean said, licking pickle juice off his fingers.

“We should at least give her the chance to prove herself.” Sam looked over at her sleeping, quietly-snoring, form. “Dean, bottom line...” Sam sighed. “She’s my soulmate.”

...

Dakotah gushed over Baby, rattling off specs and intelligent questions and giving Dean ample opportunity to play the proud papa. By the time they all actually got in the car, Sam and Dean in their usual seats and her in the back, Dean was beaming. It made Sam smile to see him so happy.

During the drive back to the bunker Dean and Dakotah jammed out to classic rock, comparing the merits of Zeppelin versus AC/DC.

They were both singing (loudly) every word to “You Shook me All Night Long” and Sam was unable to suppress a grin, thoroughly enjoying watching two of his very favorite people having so much fun when Dakotah suddenly let out a bone-chilling scream of terror.

Dean swerved the car before quickly correcting back into his own lane, glancing in the rear view and seeing Cas, who had materialized without warning. He turned off the radio and blew out a breath of adrenaline.

Castiel turned to Dakotah. “Hello.” He said evenly. “Congratulations on finding your soulmate, Sam.” He failed to acknowledge the fact that she was petrified, cowering against the car door.

“Dakotah, this is Castiel. Dean’s soulmate. The angel.” Sam said, attempting to reassure her that everything was alright.

“Hey.” She nodded once at Cas, eyes wide and fixed on him, still a little shaky. “‘Sup?”

He recognized the modern colloquial, and returned her single nod. “‘Sup to you as well.”

...

Dakotah got settled into the bunker pretty much seamlessly. Out of dozens of empty rooms to choose from she picked the room right next to Sam’s. She said it was because it was so close to the kitchen and bathrooms.

Dean was delighted to learn that in spite of her complete and utter inability to cook anything remotely edible, Dakotah could bake. She made excellent pie from scratch. She said it was the one useful thing her grandma ever taught her.

Castiel was bewildered by the girl. Her constant use of slang leaving him confused more often than not, though he was starting to pick up on some of it. Notable incidents included the time he told Dean to ‘Calm his tits’, and the first time the brothers witnessed Cas’ and Dakotah’s elaborate ‘secret handshake’ ritual.

Sam tried to maintain a careful distance and spent a good portion of his time reading about the soulmate bond. The lore had a plethora of contradictory evidence but the common thread was that the bond was profound and rare, the pull between the parties real and almost tangible.

That would explain why every time she went out with Dean to stock up for the bunker his skin felt like it didn’t fit right until he could touch her hand, her arm, her hair again, just to make sure she was healthy and whole. Why when he would return from a hunt she would hug him close and not let go for hours.

They each needed to know the other was okay. The bond made them fiercely protective. It was as if their pain was shared, as well as their joy.

And no matter the cost, there was nothing one wouldn’t do to keep the other safe.

...

The dream again. She had been having it more frequently lately. It was always like this. The dream would initially be vague and sporadic and as the time of the incident grew nearer she would have it every night and the details would gradually fill in.

A broken down house. Dean was there. Sam too. They each had gleaming knives in their hands and their muscles were tense. They were desperately searching for something and got separated. Sam turned... and a hand buried a knife in his chest.

And with his last breath before the gurgling started he breathed, “Dakotah...” in a bewildered voice and in the dream she glanced down... and saw her own clothes. Her own body.

Her own hand clutching the bloody knife.

...

“Hey, Dean... did Dakotah run to the store or something? She’s not in her room.”

“She didn’t say anything to me.” Dean continued sipping his coffee, blissfully unaware of the way Sam clenched his jaw. And the fact that Sam’s phone was on auto-redial. And that he became more and more tense each time Dakotah failed to answer.

...

Her arms were numb. Shoulders ached. Wrists stung and tickled a bit in one spot where blood trickled down. She opened her eyes but it didn’t make a difference. It was pitch black.

She whimpered and the sound was muffled by the gag cinched tightly around her head. Great.

It was her own fault, she supposed. Everyone knows hitch hiking is dangerous, but she had done it before, several times and the worst that ever happened was she had to introduce a gropey d-bag’s septum to her elbow. She had never ended up in handcuffs in a basement before.

The floor was cement and the air damp and musty, so it must be a basement.

A distant light flicked on and footsteps started down the stairs. Dakotah closed her eyes and deepened and slowed her breathing, trying to relax her throat to make herself snore. She hoped by pretending to be asleep she could gain intel, or at least be left alone for a while.

The jig was up, however, when a blinding pain exploded on one cheek and her head whipped to the side. The bitch did NOT just frikking SLAP her!

She opened her eyes again to see... herself. The pseuDakotah yanked at the real Dakotah’s jacket pockets, finally snagging her prize. Her cell phone. Which she promptly crushed between the cement floor and her heavy combat boot.

“No one is coming for you now, Sweetie.” She whispered into Dakotah’s ear before slapping her again, hard on the opposite cheek and walking back up the stairs, flicking off the light at the upper landing, plunging Dakotah into darkness once more.

...

“I just lost her signal.” Sam said, his voice achieving a whole new level of frantic.

“You’re tracking her phone? Well, that’s not creepy at all.” Dean popped open two more beers and gave Sam one. It sat, untouched, right next to the last one Dean had given him. “Her battery probably died. She’s young, Sammy. She’s most likely just out having a good time. When’s the last time she saw her friend...” He trailed off.

“...Juli?” Sam said.

“Yeah. She’s probably out with Juli.”

“I called Juli. She hasn’t seen her either.” Sam steepled his fingers and pressed his forehead to his fingertips, racking his brain for anything else he could possibly do to find her.

“Just chill, man. Give her some time. She’ll come home.” Dean patted Sam’s shoulder and sat down across from him, sipping his beer.

“I can feel it, Dean... something’s not right.” Sam caught his brother’s gaze. “If something happened to Cas, wouldn’t you know?”

After barely half a heartbeat Dean yelled, “Cas!” They waited several minutes. He called a few more times. Castiel didn’t come. “Son of a bitch, Cas. Hell of a time to be busy.”

Dean stood and grabbed his keys. Sam looked at him in confusion.

“She’s your soulmate. You’re like a Dakotah dowsing rod. Let’s go get her.”

...

A loud crash from the upper floor jerked Dakotah out of her daydreaming. She was fantasizing about slapping the fauxDakotah right in her smug little face.

She heard the rumbling voices of the Winchester brothers, calling her name. And then she knew... this was going to be the worst day of her life.

This was the day her dreams would come true.

...

“You sure she’s here?” Dean asked, voice gruff but quiet.

“Yes. I’m sure. She’s in trouble. We have to find her.” Sam had his knife at the ready, every muscle tense. Dean was the same.

At almost the same moment they heard two sounds... a muffled yell from the basement, and a clatter from somewhere down the hall past the kitchen.

Wordlessly they split up, one in either direction. Whichever sound was Dakotah, one of them would find her.

...

Dakotah had never prayed harder in her life. She was so intent on her prayers, in fact, she didn’t even hear the trademark rustling sound behind her.

Cas materialized and tore apart her gag without a word.

“Jesus Christ!” She gasped breathlessly, heart pounding in her throat.

“No, it’s Castiel.” Cas said as he similarly tore the cuffs apart, his hands gentle around her wrists as he healed the abrasions.

“Cas, go to Sam, please. He’s about to get stabbed by my doppelgänger. It was in my dream. You have to save him!” She pleaded desperately.

“Sam!” Dean had just rounded the bottom of the stairs as Dakotah finished speaking. He heard what she said, he turned on the spot and jogged back up, screaming for his brother.

...

Dakotah laid hogtied on the bed, whimpering. Tears streaming down her face. Sam went to her in a rush and cut her binds with his knife as fast as he could, checking her over for injuries.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

She sniffled. “I am now. I thought you’d never get here in time.”

He caught her wrist just before she plunged a hidden dagger into his heart.

She shrieked with rage, spittle flying, teeth gnashing.

“Nice try.” He said.

“How did you know?” She hissed.

“For starters, I nicked you when I was cutting the ropes.” He showed her the tiny cut in her wrist, which was now oozing badly from the touch of the silver. “But mostly... I know Dakotah, and you’re not her. I’m bonded to her. I don’t feel it with you. That’s also how I know in about two seconds she’s going to bust through that doorway and slap you in the face.”

The real Dakotah ran in then, pausing just long enough to register that Sam was ok before rearing back and slapping the shape shifter as hard as she could.

“That’s for slapping me, bitch!” She glanced at Sam. “Oh. And for trying to murder my soulmate. And stuff.”

As the shifter began to lose cohesion on her face Sam was finally able to bring himself to push his knife into her heart, killing her instantly.

He stood and enveloped Dakotah in a giant hug. “Don’t you ever leave us again...” He whispered into her hair. She tucked her head under his chin, ear resting against his heart, crying tears of joy that it was still beating.


End file.
